Across Sun And Sand Poem by Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla

I walk the dust of Kassala,
I walk the dust of Gedaref,
I walk the dust of Kosti,
I walk the dust of Al‑Obeid,
I walk the dust of Sinnar,
I walk the dust of Port Sudan,
I walk the dust of Madani.
I hear the Hausa voices.
I hear the Hausa voices.
Beneath the sun,
beneath the palms,
beneath the pulse of prayer.
My veins carry dhikr,
my veins carry dhikr.
The echo of mosque calls,
the devotion of ancestors,
hands shaping clay,
hands weaving cloth,
hands carving wood,
hands steady, hearts full.
Faith in every stitch,
faith in every curve,
faith in every vessel,
woven into daily life.
Manners like gardens,
gentle speech, respect, generosity, flowing like the Nile
through villages and markets.
Goodness in the way one walks, goodness in the way one eats, goodness in the way one greets the world.
I reach across time,
I reach across land,
through markets scented with spice, through songs from Kano to Khartoum, through whispered wisdom of mothers and elders.
I seek the roots that shaped me.
I seek the hands that molded virtue.
I seek the hands that shaped faith.
I seek the hands that shaped craft.
In them, I find my heart:
longing, learning, creating,
walking toward what is good,
walking toward what is holy,
walking toward what is mine.
I walk the dust of Kassala,
I walk the dust of Gedaref,
I walk the dust of Kosti,
I walk the dust of Al‑Obeid,
I walk the dust of Sinnar,
I walk the dust of Port Sudan,
I walk the dust of Madani.
I carry faith in my hands.
I carry craft in my heart.
I carry goodness in my ways.
I carry memory in my footsteps.